


Mystwalker Week 2015

by wordslinger



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: F/M, Mystwalker, Mystwalker Week
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-06 12:28:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5417111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordslinger/pseuds/wordslinger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My submissions for the Mystwalker Week 2015 prompts on tumblr. These are not really in order and most are unrelated. Rated M for the smut prompt on Day 6.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Loyalty

Knightwalker sneered. The group had been ridiculously easy to infiltrate – if that word could even be used. With lax security and an embarrassing display of inexperience in clandestine event planning, she all but walked right through the front door.

“C-Captain Knightwalker!” the man at the head of the barely-congealed crowd exclaimed. His fingers curled into the edges of his shirt. Everyone present turned their head to stare at her with expressions all varying degrees of fear. “We're just -”

“I know what you're doing,” she interrupted taking a bold step forward into the group. As expected they parted for her without being told. “I've been thoroughly informed as to your purpose.” Knightwalker grinned and stopped directly in front of the apparent leader. “I have to say I'm disappointed.”

“Excuse me?” he stuttered. The terrifying captain stood so close to him he thought he could smell the leather of her boots.

“I came here expecting talk of revolution, political overthrow, and magical resurgence. But –” Knightwalker raked her eyes over him in a way that might have been painful... if looks could kill. “This is nothing but the backroom of a bar. You don't even have a door sentry, and I must say the lot of you come off as whining children as opposed to citizens concerned for their fellow men.”

“My lady,” he sputtered.

“I am not _anyone's_ lady,” Knightwalker snarled. “You're under arrest for treason to the crown.” She turned to leave the room and motioned for her platoon of soldiers to handle the prisoners.

“But... but the Prince! He's the one who's committed treason! He's betrayed us all with his selfishness! King Faust would never ha –“

Captain Knightwalker stopped mid-stride and spun around to fix the rabble-rouser with a glare. “You're right,” she said in a deathly quiet monotone. “King Faust would've had you executed in this very room for even breathing words of rebellion.” The man's eyes widened in horror. “And I'd have spilled your blood without a second thought.”

The room was silent as the group of maybe fifteen men were taken into custody. Knightwalker nodded at her lieutenant as she stalked from the building and out into the night.

* * *

 

“It's done, Your Majesty.” Captain Knightwalker delivered her report while standing as close to the doorway as possible.

The King leaned forward in his chair. Shadows danced on his face as he stared into the fireplace. A log snapped and the flames jumped higher before quickly settling with a flurry of ash and bark. “What was their agenda this time?”

“The same, Your Majesty.” She stifled a frustrated sigh.

“Will it always be this way, Captain? Perhaps I deserve their hatred.”

Knightwalker shifted on her feet. She could handle formal reports and orders but when he drifted down introspective paths she wanted nothing more than to leave him to his thoughts. Suddenly he turned to her and she scowled in response.

“Have you no thoughts, Captain Knightwalker?”

“None that are appropriate, Your Majesty.”

“So you feel the same then? Should I be worried you'll decide to join one of these rebel factions I've set you in charge of seeking out?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.” Knightwalker paused and adjusted her cloak. “If I may speak freely, Your Majesty...”

“You may always speak freely, Captain.”

“Your father made many, however false, promises to the people. Not everyone handles change... _well_. There will always be Faust-loyalists. If non-violence is the path you wish to keep, then you must be accepting of the time it will take to earn trust. These cells do not represent the whole or even the majority of citizens.”

The king rose from his chair and stepped around it to stand in front of her. “And what sort of loyalist are you, Captain Knightwalker?”

“My life belongs to the crown.”

“Does it matter to you who wears it?”

“No.”

“But it should.”

“It doesn't.”

He eyed her for a long moment before exhaling heavily and stepping back. “One day, Captain Knightwalker, I hope to earn _your_ loyalty.”

“I've already said –“

“Not loyalty to the crown, Erza.” She blanched. His use of her first name was disarming. “But loyalty to _me_.”

He did not stop her when she abruptly fled his council chamber.

 


	2. Royalty

After the death of his wife and the disappearance of Jellal, Faust never made a habit of hosting many visiting heads of state. He'd been a singleminded man hell bent on magic accumulation and with his heir-apparent in exile there was no reason to extend hands of friendship. In reality, he had nothing to offer neighboring kingdoms.

The situation had since changed, however. Now that throne was occupied by a young man who would need working relationships with bordering countries, plans were always being made. Most visitors were foreign royalty of the elderly male variety. They wanted to discuss trade policy, commodities, crop rotations, and military posts. Captain Knightwalker envied her king for his ability to not look as bored as she felt during such meetings.

Not all visitors were as bland as all that, though. Some came in the form of flirtatious smiles, seemingly innocent brushes of a hand, and silk gowns that were designed to allure and ensnare. Obviously Jellal was a prime example of handsome, youthful vigor – not to mention his family name still commanded a healthy amount of respect – and the subject of political alliances should absolutely be on his short list of resolvable issues, but Knightwalker found the displays sickening.

She would trail behind the king and his female guests at a respectable distance earning suspicious glances from the body guards of the young women. Her face was always a mask of professionalism but it was hard not to vomit in the blooming shrubbery every time a girlish giggle would echo off the pillars in the garden. She'd always thought her job was to protect her king from assassins – not pretty girls in dresses. More than once the Captain considered breaking protocol and putting one of her subordinates in charge of looking after the king while he courted a visitor, but a part of her was far too curious to allow the job to be outsourced.

The Princess of Stella was the first monarch, beside her own king, to ever speak to her. Jellal had charged Captain Knightwalker with escorting the princess to the stables in his place. Following a string of flowery and formal apologies for his ridiculously busy schedule, Erza led the young woman through the courtyard.

“You'll have to let him go, you know,” the Princess said. Captain Knightwalker did not respond. “You can't have him in the way you'd like.”

“I beg your pardon, Princess?” She turned her head only enough to acknowledge that she'd heard what had been said. Nothing more.

“Your King. He's not for you.” Knightwalker returned her gaze ahead and snorted derisively, but the Princess went on. “It may not be me that receives his family name and crest, but you should prepare yourself for the day that he is no longer yours to gaze upon so possessively.”

When they reached the stables Captain Knightwalker ordered the Princess's mount brought around. She turned to face the other woman with as blank an expression as possible and was met with an equally schooled face.

“Your concern is unfounded, Princess. I serve my king without personal requisites. He has granted me my life in return for my service.”

The Princess of Stella eyed her skillfully before nodding once. “As you say, Captain Knightwalker. Your heart is your own.” She graciously took the reigns of her beautiful Lusitano from the stableboy and handed him a sweet from a hidden pocket in her cloak. Once the boy had run off back to his work she stepped closer to the Captain's shoulder and spoke quietly. “I know what it is like to weigh duty against desire, Captain Knightwalker. I do not enjoy being offered as a gift any more than the King of Edolas enjoys receiving me. It would be better for you to acknowledge what you truly covet before it is taken away.”

Captain Knightwalker met the striking blue eyes of the Princess and bowed deeply before leaving her to her ride. She would not examine what had been said too closely. Erza had already done the weighing and measuring... and found herself wanting. She would never be Jellal's equal. He was royalty and she was not.

 


	3. AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a day late and I'm sorry. This AU felt kind of ambitious and I needed to think on it harder than I gave myself time for.
> 
> I'm calling it a Fairy Tail/Captain America: The Winter Soldier crossover but please keep in mind there are no Marvel characters that appear in this story. Also please understand that I use the word "crossover" as loosely as possible. It's just a kind of adaptation? I don't think you'll need to have seen TWS (or read the corresponding comics) to understand what's going on here but just a brief bit of information: The Winter Soldier is a character who's used by a villainous organization (that's Marvel canon in a nutshell). They were supposed to have died in a terrible accident but obviously did not. Their memory is wiped on the regular and they are used to complete various tasks that are often pretty nefarious. This person, in Marvel canon, was a good friend of Captain America. I've switched things around a bit here. Knightwalker is the soldier and Mystogan is in the place of Cap.
> 
> A final note: It's not that deep. If you dig at the edges of what I've done here you'll find nothing. Haha! Just try to enjoy it on the surface. :)

Jellal stared at the figure in the road. She was dressed all in black and the bottom of her face remained hidden beneath a mask. Her striking red hair stirred in the wind and he couldn't help the way she disturbed him utterly. There was something familiar about her. He chalked it up to the hair. Of course it was the hair.

Logic dictated that many women shared the trait and he shouldn't be so unsettled. But _still_. He took two mindless steps forward before the crackling of the comm-link jarred him back to reason.

“Pull back, Mystogan,” a voice barked in his ear. He _wanted_ to. He knew he _should_ retreat as ordered. The appearance of the mystery soldier wasn't anticipated and she'd displayed a shocking amount of strength, cunning, and an utter disregard for public safety. He had no business engaging with her so carelessly.

_But still._

Jellal ignored the voice in his ear and drew his weapon. He took another step forward. The mask notwithstanding, he knew her face would be set in a cold, hard line of determination. _Wait._ No, he _didn't_ know that. Because he didn't know _her_. _So why did he feel like he did?_

Hell bent on unraveling the mess in his head, Jellal tightened the grip on his staff and marched toward the woman. She remained motionless except for the way her hair fluctuated with the wind. They were still very high up even though the elevated highway was a wreckage.

_“God damn it, Jellal! I said pull back!”_ Laxus's voice nearly deafened him. He smirked. His superior must be livid to have broken protocol and forgotten to use his codename.

Without warning the soldier charged him and he realized his magic circles would be useless. This woman was a fighter. He  grit his teeth and prepared for the first blow. Her body hit him with such a force he blew backwards and into the side of an abandoned truck. Jellal was an expert in hand-to-hand combat but the woman was ruthless. Her strength was equal to his and, damn his frustrated mind, he hadn't anticipated it.

Laxus was still screaming orders in his ear as he wrestled with the woman. Tendrils of her hair brushed his face and the sensation confused him even more.  _She couldn't possibly..._ No. Erza Knightwalker was dead. He'd seen her die. He'd  _seen_ it.

_But still._

With a show of brute strength he shoved her off of him and tore at the mask she wore. Probably not the most effective tactic but he was lost to reason.

The woman's face remained completely impassive but Jellal's heart came to a crashing-fifteen-car-pile-up-halt. Impossible. No no nonono.  _No._

_Impossible._

“Erza?” his words came out in an astonished breath. The woman – Erza – lunged at him again. Her expression showed no signs of recognition as she attacked without favor. Jellal lost all interest in the mission. He couldn't even hear the frantic shouting in his ear anymore. Nothing existed but the killer in front of him wearing the body of his dead lover.

Erza – or whomever she was – had always been exceptionally strong, but  _this_ . It was almost inhuman. Her spear swiped across his chest and split open the fabric of his uniform.

“Erza!” he shouted at her desperately. She stopped suddenly at stared at him as if only just regaining faculty. Her breaths came in heaves and though her hands tightened around the shaft of her spear she did not move toward him. “Erza, I don't understand.  _Please,_ ” he said breathlessly holding his hands in front of him defensively.

The woman said nothing. She stared at him with cold eyes. Her lips – lips that he'd kissed thousands of times – flattened into a line. Just as suddenly as she'd appeared before him, she turned and ran. He watched in total stupefaction as she bolted for the mangled guardrail and leaped over the edge with feline agility.

Everything came back to him at once. The pain in this chest, the shouting in his ear, the vibration of the hovering aircraft... Jellal felt overwhelmed by it and collapsed into a heap on the pavement.

* * *

 

“When I give you an order, god damn it, you follow! Jesus Christ, Jellal! Did you just lose your fucking mind out there or what?” Laxus stormed through the doors of the infirmary mid-sentence and stared at him with a thunderous expression.

“That woman,” Jellal star t ed.

“Is a fucking lunatic!” Laxus finished. The man took a deep breath and closed his eyes briefly. “Listen, I'm sure it's a steel-toed boot  to  the balls because of that hair. We  _all_ know you have a type. But you need to get a grip on yourself. I'd be flayed on the streets of Era if you died.”

Jellal rolled his eyes. “I'm sure it wouldn't be in the streets.”

“I'm glad you give so many shits.” Laxus ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “What happened out there? Can you at least explain?”

“It was Erza,” Jellal said flatly. “I know it was her.” 

“Knightwalker? The very same Knightwalker we both saw die? Bullshit. Try again.”

“She even had that scar across her nose, Laxus. I know it was her.”

Laxus's hands balled into fists again. “You listen to me,  _Mystogan_ .” Jellal flinched. He knew he sounded completely crazy, but he'd recognize Erza anywhere. “It's taken me a lot of hard begging to bring this project together. Do you comprehend that? I've put my career on the line for this. We're all,” He gestured to the small crowd of people who'd gathered in the room. “Living on a thread here. The Council doesn't want us, the people don't know about us, and frankly we cost a lot of money.  We have  a limited number of  choices: make the initiave work or go to jail –“

“Hey!”  Gajeel protested indignantly behind him. 

“Or sit around as a relic the Council can parade around like a puppet for morale. Do you want to go back to that, Jellal? Did you enjoy being a party trick?”

Jellal slumped over on the exam table. He remembered very well what being a Council puppet was like. Despite the events of the day he very much preferred his current position. “No,” he mumbled.

Laxus's face softened a fraction. “Was it really her? We've seen weirder things, I guess.”

He looked up at his superior with a grim set of jaw. “It was her.”

* * *

 

The soldier allowed herself to be strapped into the chair. She knew what was coming but had to get her question out.

“He knew me,” she said with as much expression as the tone she used to order lunch. “He called me Erza.”

“It doesn't matter,” the man in white said. “We'll fix you up now, okay?”

Erza nodded but still felt a frustrated sense of confusion. The doctor stepped behind the chair and poked at his machines. “Who is Erza?” she asked just before he returned to stuff the rubber mouthpiece between her teeth.

“No one, of course.” The obvious lie was the last thing she heard. Everything was always pain.

 


	4. War Wounds

Erza Knightwalker had plenty of scars. She took a certain degree of pride in them, as well. None of them were intentionally covered and it didn't matter to her at all what anyone thought so long as she commanded their respect – or fear. She'd take either. Though, recently she found herself preferring the former to the latter.

Her King, however, did not have scars – at least not any that could be seen easily. He licked his wounds in private and didn't often share his pains. She hated to admit that this secrecy bothered her but it did. Nearly two years had passed since he'd assigned her to his personal detail and it was the Captain he spent most of his hours with. During that span they'd developed an odd sort of kinship. Erza felt more invested in Jellal than his predecessor. The attachment was quickly turning into something quite alarming and bordering on scandalously flirtatious.

“ You're sulking,” she commented from her spot near the window.

His hand stilled over the document he'd been re viewing . “I'm not sulking,” Jellal retorted. “Kings do not sulk, Captain. They brood.”

“Call it by whatever name you like, but your mood is suffering today.”

“I'm fine, Captain.” He sighed and stretched. Knightwalker directed her gaze beyond the pane. The sky was dark and the hour was so late the twinkling lights of the royal city were limited to popular gathering places.

“If you insist, Your  Magnificence. ”

Jellal chuckled and stood from his chair. “That's a new one, Captain. Have you been waiting all day to use it?”

“I don't know what you're talking about. Perhaps you need your royal head examined.”

“Perhaps,” he mumbled. “I'll take my leave for the night, then.”

“Of course.” 

Captain Knightwalker saw the king safely to his private chambers and was relieved of duty for the evening. However, she did not return to her own room. She was well aware of certain habits Jellal practiced when he thought he could get away with them, and his mood earlier indicated he was feeling particularly restless.

She waited silently in the courtyard directly beneath a window that opened to his personal library. A cloaked figure le a pt gracefully from the ledge and landed without a sound on the stone pathway below.

“Good evening, Your Radiance,” Knightwalker said into the darkness. Cloaked shoulder s slumped and he turned slowly.

“How long have you known?”

She grinned even though she knew he couldn't quite see it. “Since the first time you went roaming about the city not less than a month after your arrival here.”

“I see.”

“I've only trailed you from a distance. Your privacy remains intact if that i s  your concern,” she offered.

“I keep no secrets from you, Captain.” He moved closer to her position near the wall. 

“Ah, but you do.” Captain Knightwalker  quipped. “I do not expect you to bare your soul to me, Your Majesty, but you need not lie, either.”

“I'm sure I don't know what you mean.” His tone was indignant but she saw through to the surprise. So he'd thought himself well hidden, then.  _Interesting._

“I've been at your side for many months now, and I've grown accustomed to the cycle of your moods. It's clear you miss your home.”

“My –“ He paused and allowed his cloak to fall around him protectively. As if it could shield him from  _her._ “Edolas is my home, Captain. I was born here.”

“True enough, Your Illustriousness, but one's birthplace does not make a home.” She paused and stepped from the shadows and into the moonlight. “You feel an ache for Earthland.”

The king stared at her without expression. She could wait, though, she'd grown to be very patient.

“It isn't just that place,” he whispered. “I miss Lily as well.”

“The Exceed was your protector and caregiver, yes?”

“Yes.”

“I feel... out of place sometimes.”

“Have you found the hole for your peg outside these walls, Your Grace?”

“No.” He studied her face and finally smirked. “When did you become such a wordsmith, Captain?”

“I'll have you know, Your Eminence, I received the finest education my village had to offer! My expertise with weapons and bloodshed aren't my only interests.” The king smiled and despite herself the Captain found the sight to be far more pleasant than she should have. “Earthland was your home, perhaps, but Edolas is your birthright. The people here love you and they will not judge you for the wounds of separation that have not healed.” Her gaze fell to her booted feet. “We have our own wounds, as well.”

“If I may,” he began as he stepped closer to her. “It has been said on the streets that a platoon under the command of a certain Officer of the King has been charged with  leveling the playing field for reconstruction work. This particular group of soldiers is said to have broken up a racket favoring certain businesses and individuals able to provide desirable kickbacks.”

“I wouldn't know anything about that.”

“Of course not. We don't keep secrets, correct?”

She smiled shrewdly. “Correct.”

“You'll be sure to thank this officer on my behalf, won't you? They seem to have curried quite a bit of favor amongst the citizens of the royal city despite a rather checkered past.”

“We all tend to our wounds of war differently, Your Grace. Some of us climb walls, and others try to protect the people they've hurt.”

The king smiled and turned back toward the palace. “You're slipping, Captain,” he said with a hint of playfulness. 

“I beg your pardon?”

“That's the second time you've called me Your Grace today. Have you run out of words?”

“My apologies Oh Ordained One. I shall strive to remain more vigilant in this regard.”

The King left her to return to his chambers the same way he'd appeared. Captain Knightwalker watched his assent with a reluctant awe. She hadn't realized him so agile. Perhaps now he'd be more content and stop seeking comfort so far from home.

 


	5. First Fight

She was angry. Very, very angry from the looks of it. His Captain hadn't spoken to him in days and her frigid silence was starting to grate. He hadn't meant to upset her and in truth the situation couldn't be helped. Jellal suspected she'd taken his orders as an insult when he hadn't intended them that way at all. She would have to be dealt with eventually but for now he knew the best course of action was to let her cool off. They hadn't clashed in quite a while and not at all since the dynamic had _shifted_. That particular change probably also had a hand in her anger. Jellal sighed and continued to stare at the snow that piled on the window ledge.

* * *

 

He found the courtyard empty save his Captain. She handled her spear with a terrifying grace. If she caught him life might very well be forfeit. He watched her practice technique and the snow puffing up around her footfalls only made the imagery more appealing to him. The weather was cold but her skin glistened with sweat in the moonlight. Jellal pulled his scarf up around his mouth to hide his smile.

“I know you're there,” she spoke only loud enough for him to hear her. Perhaps she wouldn't flay him after all? The king stepped from his hiding spot and clasped his hands behind his back.

“You've found me out, Captain. It's good to know your observational skills are so honed. I feel confident in my choice of personal guard.”

Captain Knightwalker made a derogatory sound in the back of her throat and plunged the butt of her spear into the snow covered ground.

“You'll forgive me if I do not accept such hollow compliments.”

“I do not speak hollow words, Captain,” he said stepping out into the courtyard. “Surely you know that by now.”

“Your actions have said enough, Your Majesty.”

“By actions do you mean orders?”

She shrugged. “Your words spark action. They are almost always one in the same.” Captain Knightwalker turned away from him and selected a new weapon from the rack.

“I see. Erza –“ She whirled around and tossed a staff harshly in his direction. He caught it without flinching. Her smile was sharp.

“I'm exhausted of talking.”

Jellal nodded. He should've known better than to entreat her with words. His cloak was flung aside and he tested the staff's weight and design. It wasn't unlike the ones he'd employed in Earthland but this one was devoid of magic. He'd have to rely on his own inherent skill.

She flew at him before he was fully ready and his parry was pathetic. He didn't take long to recover, though, and the language of pole-arms came back to him fluently. Her earlier grin fell into a frustrated purse of lips but Jellal found no pleasure in it. The Captain retreated somewhat and began to circle him.

“Why did you deny me the assignment?”

Jellal breathed a laugh. “I had a feeling this was the source of your ire.”

“Tell me. Do you think me so dulled and ineffective now that you've been between my legs? Have I been pastured?”

“That is the most ridiculous thing you've ever said to me, Captain. I'm insulted you think me so blatantly misogynistic.”

“Am I a treasured toy now, Your Highness? Do you fear me breaking with too much use?”

“Erza –“ It was the second time he'd addressed her by her first name and the word seemed to anger her further. Without warning she launched herself at him, but this round Jellal was prepared for the assault. He deflected her spear and disarmed her quickly. The Captain's shock at his skill was palpable when he pinned her beneath him in the snow. “Have you loosed all your barbs, Erza?”

She struggled against him. “Since when do you spar without me? That was a dirty move.”

Jellal chuckled. “Am I to ask your permission for such things?” He brushed a clump of damp hair from her face. “I would ask if it pleased you.”

“You humiliated me.” Erza stated plainly. She no longer fought against him but her resignation hurt worse.

“How so? There is no precedent for members of my King's Guard to serve in the field. Should I have sent you outside of the law? My court would see it as not only favoritism but a sign of military weakness.”

“I am –“

“The best. I know. But you cannot be the _only_. Do you not trust the soldiers you've vetted and trained yourself to handle rural vagabond rebels?” Jellal peered into her eyes searchingly. “Or have you grown board of life at court?” _Of me?_ His true question went unasked.

Finally she softened. Her fingers tidied the edges of his collar and she brushed the melting snow from his hair. “I haven't grown tired of you, Your Grace. That is a needless concern. And it isn't your disdain that I fear.”

“What in the whole of this world does the mighty Captain Knightwalker fear? It must be a truly menacing force.”

“Have you ever wondered why there are no other female officers of my rank? The task of being taken seriously is daunting. Our... _status_ is hardly a secret.”

“Ah, so it's public opinion, then. A ferocious beast.”

“You mock me?” For the first time she looked hurt.

Jellal smiled and lightly kissed the scar that snaked across her nose. It was his favorite part of her. “I would never mock you, love. I only find it hard to believe that you care what anyone thinks of you or your choices.”

“I do care but only so far as it extends to my abilities. Those who have always disliked me will only dislike me more. When I am denied assignments that surely would've been mine in the past I'll be seen not only as incapable but a favorite play-thing of the king. A status I earned by worming my way into your bed.”

“You wish to be sent out into the field to prove a point to those who already dislike you? And forgive me, Captain, but the idea of you worming your way into my bed is laughable. The cajoling on my part to  _get_ you there and to convince you to  _stay_ was nothing short of a royal edict.”

“You aren't helping,” she protested with a scowl.

“There's only two solutions to this problem that I can see.”

“The first?”

“You accept that as the Captain of my King's Guard your place is by my side at all times.”

“And the second?”

Jellal curled the sweaty strand of hair around his finger. “That you resign your post and return to active duty in the military. Of course, I'd allow you to select your own replacement. There's none I trust more than you.”

“There is no one else qualified,” she said haughtily.

“Is that your decision then?”

The Captain toyed with the collar of his shirt. “I suppose.”

Jellal smiled and kissed her swiftly. The snow was finally soaking through to his back. He stood and pulled Erza to her feet and into his chest. “There is a third option, Captain.”

“Do tell, Your Grace.”

He leaned down to press his lips to the spot just behind her ear. “You could resign both positions and become my Queen,” he whispered.

Captain Knightwalker laughed out loud and pushed him lightly away. “You'll have to  make much more enticing efforts to convince me to take  _that_ job, Jellal.”

She left him alone in the courtyard with only a smirk and the crook of her finger. Perhaps she'd rejected him  _this time_ , but he didn't mind trying harder. The use of his first name was a good start.

 


End file.
